


Four Women of Fortune

by 20thcenturyvole



Category: La fiancée hésitante | The Hesitant Betrothed - Auguste Toulmouche
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20thcenturyvole/pseuds/20thcenturyvole
Summary: What can dutiful sisters do to appease a bride who will not wed?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HurricaneMack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneMack/gifts).



FOUR WOMEN OF FORTUNE

Unto a heart in turmoil the brain gives certain protections: it denies the weight of evidence for an outcome undesired, and spins pretty fantasies of a life untroubled; it assures the heart that the world is just, and God rewards the Christian for a virtuous life even before they come to Judgement.

This is all to say that Celeste had not truly believed that her marriage to the Compte de Fer would come to pass, until Aunt Augustine told her that the gown had been commissioned.

Celeste sat rigidly in the parlour. She did not touch her cup, though the twins and little Catherine all partook in the coffee and tarts, conversing quietly. Celeste could not eat. Her spine was an unbending rod; her face was stone. The dressmaker, her aunt had said, would come this afternoon.

“Celeste,” Catherine said in her piping voice, “When you are married, will we still play in the garden?”

She had a daub of cream upon the apple of her cheek, and it threatened to charm Celeste into unbending. She opened her mouth, unsure of how to reply.

But Aunt Augustine said, “Oh, little one, the duties of a married woman will keep Celeste far too busy for that, and besides, the Compte will want her to live in his castle, not at our manor. You may visit her from time to time, dear child, and all will be well.”

“Oh,” Catherine said, and looked between Aunt Augustine and Celeste with wide eyes. “But Celeste said... oh, sister, you said...”

Celeste found she could not speak, so overcome was she. She looked at her aunt, and her aunt flinched back as if from a blow. The twins had gone quite silent.

Aunt Augustine’s chin trembled. “For heaven’s sake, Celeste, I hope you do not look upon your husband so! Don’t you understand that I have done this for all our sakes? There is no-one left who may inherit! Do you want your worthless rake of a cousin to take the estate, and run it into the ground with his debts? Do you think your sisters ought to be cut off from their fortune, dependent on his kindness and good sense to see them sheltered and fed?”

Celeste looked away. Aunt Augustine softened her tone, and took Celeste’s unresisting hand in hers. “You are the eldest, dear one,” she said. “The duty falls on you to marry. I promise that he is a good match – he is handsome, and has a fortune of his own. He has seen your portrait and finds you very charming. Do not drive him off with cold looks and silent reproaches. I am sure you will find him very agreeable, if only you give him a chance.”

Celeste said nothing, and in time her aunt sighed and removed her hand. Agathe and Aurelie began to speak again, of the weather and the spring flowers, and little Catherine asked no more questions.

*

Celeste could not adequately explain the dread in her heart. She thought upon her wedding night with nothing short of disgust; to imagine herself enceinte filled her with horror, and the knowledge that it was her duty to bear a child not once but as many times as possible seemed to her a very hell on Earth.

Therefore she resolved to die. How, she did not yet know. It would be very fitting if she could simply die in her sleep, from misery, but she could not depend upon it; therefore she must seek other ways. She had months yet to find them.

In the meantime, she must be fitted for the wretched wedding gown.

“La, sister dear, do not be downhearted,” Agathe said, as they waited in the solar. Catherine was at her lessons; Aunt Augustine had taken herself somewhere away from Celeste’s looks. “Surely you will have everything your heart desires when you marry the Compte, and more besides!”

“I have everything I want now,” Celeste said. She looked out upon their garden, and thought of never playing there with Catherine again.

“Oh, dear,” sighed Aurelie, propping her chin against Celeste’s shoulder. “How perfectly sad! For you are happy with your lot now, but father died so it will all go away if you do not marry, and if you do marry then you shall be unhappy! That is cruel.”

“Cruel! I should pray every night that the world is so cruel to me,” Agathe sighed. “Will you not look upon his portrait again, Celeste? For he is everything handsome. Come, come, here it is – look, sister! Can you not imagine the bliss?”

She and Aurelie swept Celeste between them to the parlour where the Compte’s portrait hung, and she stood between them, enduring as a statue, while they sighed together at the sight. Certainly the Compte was a handsome man, with dark hair and fine bones and sharp grey eyes: all that a painter might wish in a subject. She could look upon him, and know that he was handsome, and yet her heart did not stir in her chest. It was heavy as a stone.

“I cannot,” she confessed. Her eyes were hot; she ground her teeth. “I wish our positions were reversed, that you may have joy of him where I will find none. But it is not so. I beg you, sisters, do not ask me again.”

The twins looked at each other over Celeste’s head.

“Well,” said Agathe.

“That settles it,” said Aurelie.

“We’ve done the right thing,” said Agathe.

“Was there ever a doubt?” said Aurelie.

“Sisters, what are you saying?” Celeste said, in bewilderment.

In another part of the house, a bell tinkled gently. A servant entered, and Aurelie said, “La, sister, never you mind! It is time for your appointment with the dressmaker,” and took Celeste by the arm. Celeste, in despair, allowed herself to be taken. Agathe came giggling behind her.

“Ah, Celeste!” her aunt wittered, as she entered the room. “I’m so glad you were prompt. I think a beautiful wedding gown may be just the thing to dispel your doubts.” Celeste sighed and raised her eyes – and stopped.

Before her stood Edith – Edith, removed from the household when Celeste was seventeen, never to be seen again. No letters had come, and Celeste had had no way to send any, and her parents would not relent. It had been years, and Celeste’s ravenous eyes took in everything. Her hair was a chestnut brown, bound in a chignon; tendrils spilled down her neck like threads of silk and framed her face in wisps. Her neck was long, and as she breathed, her bosom swelled in such a way that Celeste’s mouth went dry. She tore her eyes from the beguiling sight only to catch Edith’s eye: she had such lovely eyes, wide and dark.

Celeste’s mind was a whirlwind – of course, of course, her parents had never told Aunt Augustine of the little scandal, and now they were dead, and her heart ached with missing them, but Edith, here, in front of her, after all this time— “Your sisters were clever enough to ask the Marquess who was responsible for her enchanting gown at M. de Vere’s wedding,” Aunt Augustine burbled. “Her lacework is the finest thing, I hear, and her seams are so cunningly disguised.”

Celeste watched, still dumb with astonishment, as Edith curtseyed low, her perfect mouth upturned at the corners.

It was an agony, to stand in the middle of the room and undress to her linens, and feel Edith’s clever fingers upon her ribs, and at her waist, and lightly lifting her arms, when at the edges of the room her sisters and aunt sat and observed it all. Celeste turned her back to them at Edith’s gentle command, and met her eyes with silent pleading. Edith looked back with gentle knowledge in her eyes, and Celeste’s heart exulted, even in the midst of her despair. _She knows me! Oh, she knows me!_

With a knotted cord in hand, Edith embraced her, and Celeste almost shuddered with delight, longing to take her in her arms – but Edith leaned back, the cord in both hands now, and innocently she measured Celeste’s bust and waist and hips while Aunt Augustine prattled behind them.

When Edith had finished – so soon! An eternity! – she personally attended Celeste as she dressed once more. Celeste could feel her fingers through every layer as if they lay against her bare skin. As she fastened the back of the dress, her breath blew gently against the back of Celeste’s neck. It was torture, oh, torture! Then Edith stepped away, and Celeste had not managed to compose herself before Edith curtseyed to Aunt Augustine and said, “Madame, I request at this stage that I may review your niece’s wardrobe in a private consultation? This way, I may understand her personal style, and thus make a dress that will truly delight her.”

Celeste turned with wide eyes, hardly daring to hope. Her aunt wore a thoughtful look, and Agatha clapped and said, “Oh, a personal touch! No wonder the Marquess was so delighted.”

“Indeed, a private consultation will give Celeste greater confidence that her gown is in the right hands,” Aurelie added. “Don’t you think so, Auntie?”

“Well,” Aunt Augustine said, “It seems perfectly reasonable to me.” She stood, and smiled at Edith. “You may find me in the drawing room when you are finished, mademoiselle. Be good, Celeste!” Her eyes were hard, but Celeste felt their censure not at all.

“Of course we will go,” she said softly. “The gown must be perfect, after all.”

Edith smiled at her, and the twins leapt to their feet and ushered them both up the stairs, leaving Aunt Augustine behind them.

In the privacy of her chambers, her breath burst out of her. Edith covered her mouth and giggled, and the twins took Celeste’s hands. Her eyes blurred with tears. “Oh, Edith!” she gasped. “Agathe, Aurelie, what have you done?”

“What good sisters should!” Agathe sang.

“You were so unhappy,” Aurelie said, “And there was no resigning you to the marriage. But we remembered you were so happy when Edith lived with us!”

“And then father sent her away,” Agathe said.

“How lucky she’s become such a talented dressmaker, just when we have need of one!” Aurelie said.

“Edith,” Celeste said, unable to look at anything else. “Edith, have you really come for me?”

“Yes, dearest, if you will have me,” Edith said softly.

Celeste smiled, and then felt the sting of her anxious heart. “But the estate – the inheritance—“

“Pssht,” Agathe said. “I’ll take your place! A heavy veil and Aunt Augustine will never have to know. We look enough alike that the Compte will never know the difference.”

“Or, if he does know the difference, I can offer myself as a bribe in exchange for his silence and then he can have twin wives!” Aurelie said brightly.

“Or you could fake your death,” Agathe said. “It would be very sad for Aunt Augustine, but the law would be satisfied.”

“I,” Celeste said, overwhelmed.

Agathe patted her hand. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but don’t be downhearted, sister dear – you need only play the part of bride for a little longer.”

Aurelie kissed her cheek. “Trust your sisters, dear heart – we only want what’s best for you.”

“And a handsome Compte for a husband,” Agathe said.

“Oh yes,” Aurelie said eagerly.

“And… Edith?” Celeste asked of them.

“She, we brought because we want you to be happy,” Agathe said. She and Aurelie turned to the door, and she paused at the threshold with her hand on the knob. “We’ll keep Aunt Augustine busy for an hour or two. You two catch up.”

In a flutter of giggles, they disappeared; the door closed shut behind them. Alone at last, Celeste turned to Edith with tears in her eyes. “My darling,” she whispered. “It’s been so long.”

“But I have not forgotten your promise to me,” Edith answered, her eyes sparkling as her fingers traced Celeste’s jaw. “You said your heart would be mine for all time. I remembered, and I hoped, all these years.”

“It’s true!” Celeste declared.

“Good,” Edith said, and kissed her at last. “Now let’s get you out of that dress.”

END


End file.
